Chocolate Kisses and White Board Markers
by LionAmongTheSheep
Summary: Antonio works at a sweets shop at Disney, making taffy and other random assortments with his coworker Francis. His shop and the chocolate shop next door are only separated by a large glass wall, and one day he sees a beautiful man who he communicates with using said wall.


If there was a better job than making candy at the happiest place on Earth, then Antonio would honestly love to hear about it. But what could be better than this? What could be better than handing taffy out to the little girls dressed a princesses, or helping little boys with light up sneakers fill a giant plastic tube with flavored sugar, and then watching as they slid it onto the counter in front of their mother, only to be sighed at and given exactly what he wanted? Nothing, really, and oh what a wonderful job it was, not to mention the fact that he got to hand pull the taffy, and spin the cotton candy all on his own. But there was always the one thing he loved most about working here, and that was the smiles. The smiles of parents when he gave a child a lollipop just because, the smiles of children as they walked around and tried oh so hard to pick just a few candies, or even his own smile, when he walked in and smelled the chocolate from the gourmet chocolate shop next door, only separated from his own story by a glass wall. He could still smell it all though, the dark cocoa beans, the sweet white chocolate being poured over plump red strawberries, or the vat of caramel that is cooled and pressed by hand into tiny little caramel pieces. It was all just wonderful, and he didn't expect today to be any different.

It was just a Monday, a day that most people loathe but no, not Antonio. He bounced into the shop with an everlasting grin on his face, luminescent forest eyes crinkled along with the bridge of his nose. Francis told him every day that he would get unsightly wrinkles from smiling like that all the time, but Antonio would take wrinkles any day if it meant he could brighten to room with a smile. So he did, pulling his apron on and going over to the memo board to see what exactly they needed to make today. But really, the memo board was just a section of the glass wall behind the counter that they'd decided to start writing things on. The chocolatiers on the other side did the same, writing their orders and such in black dry erase markers.

After checking that he only needed to make one batch of taffy today, he went to work, rolling his sleeves up and getting the mixture started as he whistled happily. After everything was mixed, he pulled the large clump of taffy from the mixing bowl, carrying it over to the hook to start pulling it. As he did so, he took a minute to absorb everything, just like he did every morning. He giggled softly as a little girl asked Francis to help her get down a big rainbow lollipop, and smiled fondly when he gave it to her for half price but told her to not tell the other princesses or they might get jealous. This was what he lived for, this kind of lighthearted happiness and humanly love. He kept pulling the taffy, getting a light sheen of sweat across his forehead, as this was hard work and he was oh so grateful that he only had to do this batch. Rolling it through the wrapping machine was the easiest part, but as he was carrying the finally stretched roll of taffy across the back of the shop, he was stopped dead in his tracks, having to remind himself to keep hold of the candy in his hands.

How, he wondered, could one person be so lovely? Was it really possible, or was he simply hallucinating? Oh but if he was pray he never came back to his senses, lest he keel over and pass out again. This man, whoever he was, olive skinned and supple, cheeks full with a built in pout that made his amber glistened eyes lid subtly, oh he was so gorgeous. It took everything Antonio had not to start pounding on the glass for his attention, knowing that he would probably just get one of those dexterously thin fingers in his face. But what could he do? How could he resist someone so…but what would be the word, he wondered, to describe this person, who was rolling cooled caramel in his hands with such a look of concentration that he looked as though he were fit to pierce the sugary delicacy with just his gaze, who had such nimble fingers and a nimble body to go with them? How could one word do him justice?

Antonio had to snap himself out of it, the taffy in his hands melting and starting to droop to the floor. He quickly made his way over to the rolling machine, letting out a breath when it was out of his arms. He needed to get a grip, and fast, as Francis was already looking annoyed that he'd been dawdling around and being unproductive, and he'd rather not have to deal with an angry Frenchman, and God forbid he threaten to get Gilbert in here. As annoying and seemingly arrogant as their manager was, he was rather frightening when angered, so Antonio did all he could to avoid getting on his bad side. So he got back to work, not seeing the auburn haired man again that day. But he wanted so badly to talk to him. The only problem was, the chocolatiers got to work before him, and left before him as well. He'd never get the chance to catch him.

But, never under estimate a Spaniard in love, he would always say,knowing that if he worked hard enough, he could communicate in other ways. And work hard he did, as he sat his entire break trying to think of what to do, and just as he was about to give up the most brilliant and obvious idea hit him. How stupid he was, scoffing at himself and rolling his eyes as he pulled out a white dry erase marker and went into the front of the shop, leaning up against the counter beside the glass wall. He could see that everyone else had left, so he didn't feel bothered about writing his message flat out, not trying to be discreet at all. It was rather hard writing backwards, but he got it done, nodding resolutely at his work.

"Your eyes are as sweet as caramel"

The next day, he skipped into work excitedly, ignoring Gilbert, who was working the shift instead of Francis for reasons Antonio wasn't going to ask. He hopped right over to pull on his apron and head into the back, going over to the wall to see if he'd gotten a reply from his message the night before. When he saw some scrawls of red beside his words, noticing that they were written in his direction, he grinned, leaning down to read the intricate and rather beautiful cursive.

"Your pickup line is as lame as soggy pizza, bastardo."

Antonio should have frowned, should have felt put down, anything really, but instead, he just laughed brightly. It was always nice to play around a bit, and he didn't really expect this to be easy. But at least the guy was reading his messages, and as long as he kept reading them, Antonio was sure that he would be able to at least get a chance to talk to this man. That day, he saw him twice, both time working on caramels, and he was trying his best to be discreet but how, how do you not stare at someone so insatiable? He struggled, but made it through the day, mentally exhausted by the end of his shift. He left another note on the wall, though, this time a little bigger.

"May I have some kisses?" he wrote, doodling a few Hershey's kisses beside it.

When he came in the next morning, there was no reply. Not even a word, and he wondered if it was because the man hadn't been into work that day. He felt a drop in his chest, almost something akin to disappointment, and he mentally smacked himself for getting so attached. He didn't even know this guy's name! Oh, yes, but how he yearned to know it, how he yearned to call his name through the glass, and how he itched, wanted, no, needed to whisper his name in the most calm of moments, when nothing else in the world could possibly matter but him. It was silly, though. The guy obviously wasn't interested, so he decided that maybe he should let it go.

However, the next morning he came into work, he went to get his apron, frowning and tilting his head at the slight weight of it. Well, that was strange, he thought, as no one else should have been able to get in here and why would Francis or Gilbert put something in his apron? But he reached inside of the pocket anyways, eyebrows raising in surprise when he pulled out a handful of chocolate kisses, letting them fall onto the counter. He missed the way Francis smirked, missed the fact that the man on the other side of the glass was blushing like mad while stealing glances through the wall, and he definitely missed the fact that one of the shop's spare keys was given back to Francis by said man during lunch. That night, he decided to give another note a shot, scrawling it in his chicken scratch handwriting.

"Thank you for my kisses, but I have a feeling they aren't as nice as the real thing. But, for now, may I have a name?"

The next morning, he came in, a little less chipper, and cautiously approached the wall where he'd left his message the night before. He felt his heart twist, leap into his throat, almost like he was choking, but in the best way humanly possible. There, taped sloppily under his message was a name tag in the shape of a mouse head, and Antonio giggled because what a silly man, doing such a thing when he could have just written it.

"Lovino Vargas" it said, and Antonio's face softened into a fond smile. What a lovely name, flowing from his tongue as he whispered it to himself, turning to go into the back to pull his apron on. He was to make taffy again today, much to his dismay, but he couldn't have been brought down if Gilbert decided to kick him in the face or if Francis decided to run through the shop naked after closing again. As he was working on pouring the ingredients into the large mixer, however, the bag of flavor powder he was holding decided to bust a seam, pouring out onto the floor in a sudden plume of pink dust, and in seconds his was sputtering and coughing, completely covered in the stuff. He sighed, trying in vein to swipe it out of his hair and away from his eyes, when he looked up and through the glass wall to see Lovino standing at the caramel vat…laughing.

Lovino laughed, and while it was at Antonio's expense it was such a captivating laugh. He could only hear it a tiny bit, very muffled, but oh, the smile, the way it pushed the corners of his honey eyes up and turned the tip of his nose upwards, his head hung forward and shoulders shifting slightly. He was so stunning, so ravishing, so perfect when he smiled, but please, Antonio though as Lovino noticed him looking, please don't stop and please don't turn away and walk out. He was gone then, and even though he was disappointed, Antonio couldn't help but smile. His breath was taken away, and he'd never felt this way before and no, he didn't think, in this lifetime, he'd ever feel this again.

He left another note that night, a ditzy, love struck smile plastered on his face as he wrote, Francis watching from the end of the counter with a rather amused smile. But Antonio didn't care, and he didn't care what anyone thought or did or said, because he just had to do this, just had to know Lovino, no matter what.

"The powder wasn't the only thing that took my breath away today, mi amor"

Apparently, Lovino did not like when Antonio said things like that, as the next morning the Spaniard was met with a normally displeasing message. But to him, it was rather adorable and how he wished he could know what Lovino's voice sounded like, and what it was like to be scolded in person. The notes kept going for days, though, Antonio undeterred and Lovino leaving his not so impressed replies while Antonio flitted about the shop in such a happy mood that it rivaled Gilbert's when he got free beer.

But one day, the notes stopped. At first, Antonio thought it was because Lovino just had a day off. But after three days of seeing the other through the wall and having no replies to anything he said, he felt discouraged. What was he to do without seeming inappropriately insistent? So, to spare himself of anymore disappointment and Lovino of receiving the notion that Antonio was trying to stalk him, he stopped leaving notes too, just working every day like he used to and trying to ignore when he saw Lovino working so close but so damn far away.

After a week, however, on a seemingly usual day of helping children, making candy, and repeat, Antonio was pulling taffy again when he heard a soft squeaking sound. At first it was soft, but eventually it got faster and harsher, more frantic and somewhat angry, and finally, looking up, he saw Lovino standing at the other side of the wall, writing something, erasing it, then trying again. He did this over and over, not noticing Antonio watching, just glaring at the glass as he tried to write something with noticeably shaky hands. Finally, Antonio put the taffy on the counter and grabbed a marker, going over to start writing, visibly startling the man on the other side.

"Lovi, what is it?" he wrote, receiving a half hearted glare.

"Shut up huh? I'm just bored and scribbling on the wall."

Antonio laughed heartily, his head tilting to the side as he watched Lovino's face darken. He was so cute, he thought, oh so very cute and handsome and beautiful and oh no, he was staring again.

"No you're not." he replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine! I just wanted to know what your name was, since you get to know mine."

Oh. Well, if that was all, then Antonio would happily oblige.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Now, Lovi, what did you actually want?" He was met with a drop of the jaw, a 'how dare you' glare, and a pout to rival a child's. But that was alright, as the other was writing back anyways.

"First, I want to stop talking through a glass wall, stronzo! Why don't you grow some balls and come talk to me in person?!"

Antonio felt his own cheeks grow red now, his heart hammering insistently against his chest. His brain screamed at him, take the chance, do it, but his feet, legs, hands, nothing would move. Lovino would have none of that though, it seemed, as he rammed his first against the glass in front of Antonio's face, snapping him out of his trance.

"Meet me outside at noon. Lunch, on me?" he finally replied, hand shaking considerably but his grin unmistakable. Lovino rolled his eyes, but it was quite obvious that he was fighting back a smile as he replied.

"Fine." was all he wrote, and he turned back to go to work again, leaving Antonio standing there with a stupid smile.

As promised, Antonio took his lunch break early that day to meet Lovino out front. He was nervous though, as to why he didn't know, but he was, rocking back and forth on his heels and biting at his lip. When it seemed like the other had forgotten or wasn't coming at all, the door to the chocolate shop opened, the little bell sending tiny waves of happiness through Antonio at the very sound of it. Lovino stepped out then, a bored expression on his face but a look of contentment in his eyes, and oh, Antonio thought his heart stopped because there he was, walking up to him and there was no glass wall and he could smell him, smell the garlic and the caramel and the hint of wine and leather, and no, he could never not want him now.

"Buenos tardes Lovi!" he chirped, smiling at the brooding Italian.

"Buon pomeriggio, bastardo. Where are we eating?" the other asked, and did Antonio melt. It was so deep, so rough and rustic and good God what had he been missing? He was so blunt, his voice was so blunt, everything about him was blunt, and it was perfect, like the last puzzle piece. The opposite puzzle piece that was missing from the overall quirkiness and sunny disposition of Antonio's demeanor.

"You choose, I'm happy with anything." he said, his grin downplayed into a fond smile.

"Of course you are…" Lovino muttered, turning to start walking, Antonio following next to him with a skip in his step, and he swore, if only for a second, there was a hint of a smile not only in Lovino's eyes, but on his lips as well.


End file.
